Drabbles
by lucifer ravana
Summary: A series of drabbles that defines a life.


At 3 months, he said his first word. "Oncle!" Short for L'Oncle. The French version of Uncle, mentioned only because of the frequent visitor they had at the Manor. The Dark Lord, who had been named the child's uncle due to the absence of any other explainable title.   
At age one, he was calling him 'Uncle Voldie!' He said it in a whiny, childish way that made Voldemort long to take the boy on his lap and show him the true nature of discipline. And then the boy looked at him with adoration and the words died on his lips.  
  
  
   
  
At age five, the boy had taken to following around his Idol, grabbing onto the older man's thick black cloak and raising it high above his head. Sometimes, he tripped and ended up yanking the Dark Lord backwards. Voldemort gave the boy a glare that was returned with a loud, obnoxious "Cwucio!"   
Voldemort paused, blinked, and then smiled as he took the boy by the hand and led him into the gathering of his followers.  
"And what do we do with traitors?"  
"Cwucio!"  
Voldemort had never felt so proud in all his life. The boy smiled, eyes only for him.  
  
  
   
  
At age seven, it was the boy's birthday party. Voldemort attended and allowed himself to be blindfolded and spun about while playing pin the tale on the Auror. He let the boy spoon-fed him chocolate cake even though he was on a diet. He tolerated the annoying cone-shaped hat on his head. He allowed pictures to be taken.  
His annoyance never shone on his face but the boy sensed it. When all was said and done and the guests had gone home, the boy crawled into Uncle Voldie's arms. "I love you, Uncle Voldie."  
And it all seemed worth it.  
  
  
   
  
At age eleven, the boy went to Hogwarts and Voldemort received letters almost every day. Letters that told the Dark Lord about classes, friends, relationships, professors, and mundane trials every boy must go through. He emphasized the fact that he was in Slytherin House and asked Voldemort to send him sweets because his parents would not.  
Voldemort told himself he did not care and he threw away most of the letters only to dig them out of his waste bin and read them when he felt lonely. It wasn't until the boy's second term that he started sending the sweets.  
  
  
   
  
At age seventeen, the boy graduated from Hogwarts with honours and extensive praise in Muggle Studies and, more notably, the Dark Arts. He asked if Voldemort would care to attend and the Dark Lord, impressed with the boy's manners and etiquette, said yes, he would very much like to attend.  
He observed the ceremony in disguise, watched the boy go up and receive his degree. Head Boy and Valedictorian, the child gave the final speech to his class. It was the first time Voldemort realized that the boy had a gifted way with words. He applauded with a father's pride.  
  
  
   
  
At age twenty, the boy married a woman that did not look anything like the Dark Lord and Voldemort felt, for the first time, a pang of jealousy that he kept hidden away from the happy couple. The boy looked happy, though it had been an arranged marriage. Voldemort attended the wedding and gave the boy his own personal gift.  
The boy took the brand without a word of complaint, his eyes never leaving his Lord's. Two years later, the boy became his Lord's Second and was widely well-known for his ruthlessness and flawless tactics.  
At home, he was loved.  
  
  
   
  
The boy became a man and Voldemort lost track of how old the man now was. The man no longer shared birthdays with him, he had a family of his own to do that with, but what he shared was much more valuable. Information, allies, friendship, and still, that same adoration.  
Voldemort had trained him in all manners of dueling. Had taught him how to repress his emotions, had taught him all about masks. Voldemort had infinite patience for his Favorite. The man had infinite respect for his Lord. Together, they crafted a world that suited them both. Always together.  
  
  
   
  
His Lord fell today and the man had wept. They had come for him, had tried to break him and laughed at his plight. None saw what went on in his heart and soul. No one could break him. No one could tear apart his loyalties.  
He witnessed his own destruction as he did his Lord's, from a safe vantage point where no one could see him crumbling. And then a sharp wailing broke through his haze of darkness and a twin pair of gray eyes looked into his own, identical in every way.   
They even held the same devotion.  
  
  
   
  
His Lord returned. Different. Untouchable. The Dark Lord would not see him as often and had gone into seclusion. The man thought this to be a mockery of what the man had once meant to him. His beliefs crumbled and his world flew apart. He lived no longer for the Cause, but for the dream.  
He would fix this problem with his own two hands. He would bring his Lord back. He would grant him a soul and take him away from his own damnation. He would give his Lord a reason to come out of hiding.  
He needed Potter.  
  
  
   
  
The man was dead. Killed by Potter. Potter's mind had been broken due to the taking of another's life. A murderous path, started by his Second and ended by his Second. His boy, his man, had been taken from him, had been killed in his name. Lord Voldemort's shell had been cracked.  
Voldemort could not be who he once was without him. He could only move forward. The man's body lay upon the bed, having been cleaned off and Voldemort held him tightly as he slowly realized that while he had grown with him, he had never understood Lucius Malfoy.  
  
  
   
  
What is devotion but another form of love? Both require sacrifices, both require some heart ache, but while one stays on the path of truth and light, the other can delve into maddening obsession. Lucius knows this now. He knows he has spared his Lord a lifetime of obsession, for all Potter needs is to be killed and with his mind so broken, that will be easier now.  
Voldemort will come for Potter. And Voldemort will no longer be obsessed with the scarred boy as his Morningstar was for his devil.   
Lucius knows love now. He was destroyed for it.


End file.
